Page 16 of Lady Tempts a Rogue
And his, at this precise moment, was an unwise, certain-to-be-trouble mounting interest in the pretty miss.
Devin turned his attention to the tricky area on his chin to distract himself from his wayward, ever-increasing carnal musings.
“Miss Ablethorne, would you care to stroll on the deck after you have looked in on Mrs. Peagilly and I have finished dressing and breaking my fast?”
“That would be lovely—”
His pulse accelerated in anticipation of spending more time with her in, if not precisely a romantic environment, a setting more appealing than a sick room where the faint odor of vomit yet lingered.
“But rain has deluged the vessel for two and a half days. It is not fit for man or beast top side. I pity the sailors, though most wear oilskin and seem to take the rainstorm in stride.” Trinity swept her full plum-colored lips upward in a sweetly contrite smile. “I have taken to pacing the passageway for a bit of exercise, inadequate though it is.”
Such an overwhelming urge to kiss those two plump pillows and the adorable dimple in Trinity’s buttercup of a chin battered Devin that he nearly spun around, grabbed her to his naked chest, and plundered the depths of that oh-so-tempting mouth.
No.
NO, he repeated more firmly in his head.
He had committed to putting his roguish ways behind him and becoming the man his father always believed he could be.
A gentleman. An honorable man. A man his father would be proud to call his son.
Razor poised at his jaw, Devin swallowed, then swallowed again.
“Chess then? In the saloon?”
To keep appearances perfectly respectable.
“Regretfully, I do not play.” She notched a shoulder upward an inch, not the least apologetic.
Devil take it.
“I could teach you.”
“You could try. However, I have undertaken to learn the game but found it not to my liking. I lack the competitiveness needed to prevail. I do not care if my opponent captures my priests, knights, crows, pawns, or queen.”
She sent another surreptitious glance over her shoulder.
Devin could not contain his chuckle. “You mean bishop and rook?”
Nonplussed, she stared at him. “Pardon?”
“Not priests but bishops, and not crows but rooks.” He waved his razor. “And those names are the English versions. Rook is from rukh, which means chariot, and the bishop was originally alfil for elephant.”
Arms folded, she slanted a delicate eyebrow upward.
“Now you are making a May game of me.”
“Not at all.” He shook his head, and a blob of lather plopped onto the scuffed floor.
“Chess originated in India. The pieces were named for the four army divisions. Infantry, or what we call pawns.”
He raised his forefinger.
“Calvary, the knights. The elephantry is the bishops because a small groove on the pieces is supposed to represent a tusk.”
He lifted two more lathered fingers.
“And the chariotry became rooks.”
